


Two Sugars, One Cream

by omens_of_221B



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 01:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omens_of_221B/pseuds/omens_of_221B
Summary: (- It's mid September and it's Aziraphale Fell's first year attending Tadfield University as an English major. He loves what he's doing, but life quickly becomes repetitive. That is, until he meets a handsome barista with a devilish smile and they connect enthusiastically. Where will this take them? -)





	1. The Barista

**Author's Note:**

> \--- Hello, yes, hello. As you can tell, this is the most basic AU any fandom could ever use. But I mean, if your fandom's most iconic ships don't have coffeeshop AUs, are you really a fandom?---

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (- Lots of classes can get overwhelming, but a nice cup of coffee and a handsome barista can take your mind off of it. -)

It was a bright, warm Monday morning. The sun shone mercilessly, far too early in the morning to be acceptable, through a window and onto a wooden floor. An alarm blared through the room, but it came to a halt after an annoyed hand smacked it into silence. There was a groan; it was five o'clock in the morning, and Aziraphale didn't like it one bit.

Aziraphale Fell was a young man, twenty years old and pursuing an English major while attending the University of Tadfield. He adored the English language and it's evolution through the ages, but he did not adore waking up at dawn to attend a lecture. It wasn't that he wasn't a morning person, per se, he actually loved mornings. He didn't, however, enjoy waking up this early; no one did. Or so he assumed.

Aziraphale got out of bed groggily and went to get dressed; he couldn't be bothered to shower this early, he'd take care of that, well, at some point. He decided that jeans, a cream crew neck sweater and moccasins would be comfortable, but presentable. If society didn't call for presentable clothing, though, he probably would have left in pajamas. He combed fluffy blond hair twice and left hurriedly to get his bag and computer. He wanted to make time for breakfast, but he could not fathom himself waking up any earlier than he did. He could either leave the warmth of his bed and the absurd time of half past four, or he could simply stop by the coffee shop after the lecture.

He left his flat, making sure to be quiet as to not wake his flatmate. Although, he wasn't too worried; Newton was a heavy sleeper, and he was most definitely not the type of person to be even mildly conscious at this time of day.

There was a chill from the moisture that set during the night, but there was no breeze. Aziraphale headed towards his bicycle and pedalled towards the third building on campus where the lecture would take place. He wasn't totally dreading it. Dr. Young was a generally stern man when it came to grades, but he made classes a bit less boring with his silly jokes and knowing grins. Aziraphale had only two classes that day, and he was certainly looking forward to a more calming day.

Once he arrived at the building and parked his bicycle in the rack, locking it safely, he went inside quickly. He sat down in the third row, taking out a maroon notebook and a pencil to doodle mindlessly until the lecture began. He didn't get much doodling done, though, because he was startled when a hand made it's way onto his shoulder.

Aziraphale could already tell from the strong, yet gentle touch, that his friend had come in just moments after him. He turned around knowingly, smiling bright. His friend, Anathema Device, sported a happy smile and thick rimmed glasses. She was from America, striving for a Psychology major. She was a force to be reckoned with, that much was certain, but she was always good company with the right people.

'Good morning, Anathema,' Aziraphale started.

'G'morning Zira,' she greeted with a yawn. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

'I told you to stop calling me that!' he tried to scold his friend, but instead smiled as she gave him a smug smirk. Turning to look at the front of the classroom, she tried to hold a laugh.

'Too bad, it's a lost cause. I can't say your mouthful of a name this early in the morning.' Aziraphale chuckled.

'Touché.'

-..-..-..-..-

After a rather tiring but mildly interesting lecture, Aziraphale definitely wanted some coffee. He regretted not having had even a tiny amount of caffeine before attending the lecture, because he was definitely more tired than he had presumed. Anathema had a class after the lecture and had bid him goodbye, so he was alone as he made his way to his bicycle. He could walk to the café, but it was on the other side of campus and he was feeling way too tired for that walking distance. He absolutely couldn't be bothered. So, within around twenty minutes, give or take, he found himself in front of a café called Crème de la Crème coffeehouse.

Aziraphale had never actually entered the quaint café, but Anathema had recommended thrice in the past month, so he thought it an appropriate time to try it for himself.

He made his way to the glass door, opening it with the chime of a bell and holding it open for a couple. Aziraphale gave a little smile. The inside was cozy, with little booths and wooden tables, a little fireplace with two comfortable looking chairs, poufs and stool-like side tables scattered about. The menu was a chalkboard and there were lots of windows illuminating the café. Aziraphale felt at home with the calm surrounding and the smell of patisserie with roasted coffee beans. There were certainly a few people from the university either working at the tables with their computers, or working at the counters serving any form of caffeine to exhausted students.

Aziraphale looked to the menu and decided on a blueberry muffin to accompany his coffee; he hadn't eaten yet and was rather hungry. He went to stand in line behind the couple he had smiled at earlier and waited. He was looking around, admiring the not too quiet, not too rambunctious feeling of the place. He was startled, though, when he heard a rather drawn out groan. He turned to look at the commotion behind the counter.

Two young men were looking at each other, not with scowls or a glares, just sneers of irritation. On had very messy blond hair and beetle eyes while the other, much taller than the other, sported shoulder length hair that looked like a dark auburn pulled into a bun. He wore lots of black clothing underneath an earthy green apron.

'Come on, Hastur! I took the shift for you last time, can't you do mine Friday? I'll do your morning shift!' the man clad in black complained.

'AJ, I told you, I'm busy!' the beetle eyed blond responded, obviously frustrated.

'You know what? Fine. I'm not taking your next shift though!' the other called as the blond walked away, trying and failing miserably to be discreet with a rude hand gesture. Aziraphale watched as he walked away, eyebrows raised, until someone cleared their throat. Aziraphale turned to look and it was the long haired man; now that he got a closer look at him, his eyebrows shot up higher, his eyes wide, until he blinked it away.

The man in the apron was, undoubtedly, breathtaking in Aziraphale's opinion. His eyes were peculiar with strange looking pupils, but his iris's strewn with brown, amber and gold held some type of charm. He was biting the inside of his cheek looking bored and definitely impatient.

'Oh, so sorry! I, uh, didn't mean to space out like that!' Aziraphale hurried with a smile. At that, the handsome barista relaxed his shoulders that Aziraphale hadn't even noticed so tense. The barista gave a ghost of a grin.

'Not a problem. What can I get you?' he continued, nonchalant.

'Oh, uh, a coffee. Two sugars, one cream, please,' Aziraphale replied.

'Coming right up,' the man assured.

Aziraphale went to stand at the serving counter and waited until the barista brought him his drink, handing it to him instead of sliding it onto the counter. Aziraphale paid no attention until said man gave a closed lip smile, and with a sharp twitch of his wrist, he gave a single wave. Aziraphale gave a toothy grin in response. The man then turned around, but before he could, Aziraphale curiously read his name tag. 'Anthony C.' was marked in black with very sharp handwriting. Aziraphale hummed and headed out the door, confused, but happy with his experience. He sipped his coffee without a thought.

'Not bad,' he murmured. He walked to his bicycle and began heading to his flat, and only ten minutes after he was riding back, he realized he didn't get his muffin. He groaned, but once again, he couldn't be bothered to go back. Not today, at least; he still did want another encounter with that barista, though.

Anathema was right, it was a nice café.


	2. Wait, He's Your Date?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (- Aziraphale discovers a connection between his friend and flatmate. -)

Monday passed by slowly, and the relaxation was a nice way to start the week, but the pace picked up rapidly as the week went on. Tuesday was full of classes, which meant loads of homework on Wednesday along with Aziraphale's other classes. He was only able to talk to Anathema throughout studious library meetings and he had yet to return to the café. He didn't really think about that within those few days, but Thursday was a more relaxed day with only three classes and probable essay writing in the library. Aziraphale was writing the majority of his Theology essay until half past eleven on Wednesday night, hoping desperately to have some spare time the next day. He decided it was time to go to sleep. He'd finish the conclusion in the library the next day, so he set his books away and went to get ready for bed.

Before he shut the light, he bid his roommate goodnight and got a mix between a 'goodnight' and a yawn in return. Aziraphale slept soundly that night knowing that he didn't need to wake up and a tremendously inconvenient time. He could probably leave at half past seven and make it to his Sociology class. Thus, he slept a dreamless sleep, and woke up the next morning feeling rested.

-..-..-..-..-

When he woke up that morning at seven o'clock, he wasn't as bothered as he had been the past few days with their ridiculously timed schedules. Although, as he was pulling a knit navy sweater over his head, he had a thought.

If he left a bit earlier than usual, he might be able to stop by the café and, well, buy a coffee as one would do. Maybe some food. Maybe see a familiar face, like Anathema. Or Anthony.

Aziraphale barely knew anything about him, but it would be an understatement to say that he was intrigued. The mysterious man was definitely someone Aziraphale wanted to know. He seemed adventurous, stylish and smart. Although, he did seem rather cool, and while Aziraphale knew he was good company, he felt silly compared to Anthony. Sort of bland. But, he didn't necessarily want to give up; that was always a virtue that Aziraphale liked about himself. He was determined, and to the annoyance of some people, very stubborn at times. So, he would go, engage in small talk, and then leave. Easy as pie, right?

It was more of a rainy day, so Aziraphale chose to walk with his umbrella instead of riding his bicycle. Heading towards the far South end of campus, he approached the café confidentially. He felt a tad dejected, though, when he noticed that the redhead wasn't there. Must be his day off, then. Aziraphale still wanted his coffee, though, so he got one from the beetle eyed blond he recognized from Monday; the one who was arguing with Anthony. Nonetheless, Aziraphale took his coffee and strolled the fifth building, entering quietly. Anathema wasn't in this class, unfortunately, but Aziraphale recognized Michael Christen. He didn't associate with Michael much, she was very selective of the company she kept and decided that Aziraphale wasn't ideal. He also recognized a student name Belle Zebub, a rather androgynous student that Aziraphale hadn't spoken to much.

Class started only minutes after that when Ms. Potts entered rather spectacularly in a flamboyant fashion. She was definitely one of Aziraphale's favourites, always such a pleasure to be around as she taught the class suavely, with ease, and it was over before he knew it. The homework was due for the next class, which was on Monday, so he could work on it throughout the weekend.

Leaving his class, hoping to get to the library quickly, he walked out of the building to go to enter the one on it's right. Standing tall with all it's glory, the library was by far Aziraphale's favourite place on the campus. Every story placed artistically on paper, thousands of them casually shelved, the smell of new ink and old parchment so strong in the air. It made him smile every time he went it. He sat in his favourite spot, and as often as he occupied the space, it was usually vacant for him. It was an armchair, all nice and broken into, with an oak table placed artistically in front of it. He liked to read there; concentrated and unbothered. Well, usually. After only a few minutes of sitting down, a familiar face found him writing the remainder of his essay.

'Hello, Zira!' Anathema greeted with a chipper tone. Aziraphale chuckled and rolled his eyes.

'It isn't five o'clock in the morning, would you do me the courtesy of saying my full name?' Aziraphale grinned. Anathema pouted.

'Fine, fine, Aziraphale. What're you up to?' she asked while sitting opposite of him, staring intently. Aziraphale just sighed.

'Completing a Theology essay. It's interesting, but I wrote twenty pages of words in two days! I have eight more sentences to write and I'll be done, give me a moment.' Aziraphale complained hurriedly, and while Anathema talked random nonsense to keep conversation going, Aziraphale finished his essay. Rereading the conclusion and humming with satisfaction, he saved it to print once he got back to his flat.

'-and so he invited me to go - Aziraphale, are you listening?' Anathema rambled on. Aziraphale shook his head and blinked.

'My apologies, dear, could you repeat that?'

'Right, well, I met someone and he said there was a party tonight that's being hosted near the West end. We should go!' Anathema exclaimed excitedly. Aziraphale was too startled with the suggestion that he forgot to ask who Anathema was referring to. All he knew was that he was being asked to attend a party for the first time in his university career. Although, he thought, it was bound to come sometime soon.

'Anathema, I don't know if that's a good idea...' Aziraphale said nervously, not quite sure how to respond.

'Oh, come on! It'll be fun, trust me. If you don't want to drink, use the designated driver excuse.' Anathema pleaded. Aziraphale didn't really feel guilty, but he didn't want to disappoint his friend. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

'I - fine, fine, I'll go, now stop giving me that look!' Aziraphale scolded unenthusiastically. Anathema shot her fist into the air and seemed very pleased with her victory.

'Alright, alright, I'll get my date and then make my way to your flat. Text me the address later?' Anathema asked excitedly. Aziraphale raised a brow.

'You do realize you've visited twice, right?' he asked with a smirk. Anathema laughed.

'Maybe so, but I am not inclined to remember the flats surrounding the campus when I still have trouble remembering the way around here.' she stated matter-of-factly, spinning her finger in her hair. Aziraphale shook his head again.

'Fine, fine, alright. When will you be coming?' Aziraphale asking as Anathema had already sprung to her feet. She pondered for a moment.

'Should be there at, say, quarter to nine?' she supplied. Aziraphale nodded, and before he could utter another word, she had bid him farewell and left the library. Aziraphale thought about what he had just agreed to. Oh, yeah, right, a party. That he would attend.

-..-..-..-..- 

Aziraphale looked into his closet with narrowed eyes. Should he dress comfortably? Or maybe with a bit more flare than usual? He wasn't sure. Maybe a bit of both? He shrugged and changed into dark wash jeans and a lilac knit jumper, which didn't seem too bad. He paired it with loafers, though. He'd rather not spend the night in uncomfortable shoes. He looked in the mirror, contemplating the outfit, debating on whether or not it was flattering, when the doorbell rang. He made his way to the door hurriedly, checking the time on his cellphone; it was only half past eight and he hadn't texted his flat number yet. Odd.

When he unlocked the door, Anathema smiled, but a look of confusion quickly replaced her features. She blinked, looked down to her phone and looked up again.

'Wait, wait, you didn't text me your flat number yet, did you?' she asked with misunderstanding in her tone. Aziraphale shook his head.

'I have not, so unless you found out you had miraculously written it down, I haven't the faintest idea how you got here.' Aziraphale replied. The two of them looked at each other skeptically until someone cleared their throat from behind Aziraphale. He turned around and saw Newt, his flatmate, looking at Anathema. Once she saw him, she relaxed.

'Hi Newt! Zira, why didn't you tell me you two were flatmates?' Anathema asked, amused. Aziraphale shrugged.

'You never said his name, only that you had a date.' Aziraphale supplied. Newt smiled, surprised.

'A date?' he repeated, hopeful. Anathema nodded confidentially, but she definitely blushed, even a tiny bit.

'Yep. Well, come on then you two, we'll take the long way to see that we're not early. There's no way you can arrive early to a party.' Anathema instructed, and then turned to face the both of them.

'Now, both of you, tell me, what is the other like as a flatmate?'


	3. Thursday Night Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (- Aziraphale finds a familiar face in a party full of unknown peers. -)

The trio stopped in front of what Aziraphale imagined was the description of a "frat house" whenever Anathema would talk about one. It was big, with cars parked everywhere and music blaring so loud that the ground felt like it was shaking. Anathema led Newt inside by the hand and Aziraphale smiled. It was good to see his introverted flatmate enjoy the company of such a loud spoken person.

He walked inside, trying to blend in the the mass of students and become accustomed the the smell of cheap vodka, floral perfume, sweat, and probably marijuana. He took a solo cup and poured what he assumed to be spiked punch into his cup since he would not be driving after all. Then proceeding to make his way around the room, he was ultimately relieved when he saw a vacant couch on the side of the main room.

Sitting down, already not sure what to do, he sipped his drink. He pursed his lips; definitely cheap vodka. Watching as people did drunken shimmies, snogged ruthlessly and played silly games, he smiled. It was funny to him, how people of his age considered themselves adults and responsible, when deep down the were all still children trying to navigate their way through the beginnings of adulthood. Very funny indeed.

Aziraphale looked around and saw nothing particularly interesting, but he found a pen on the side table. He had no paper, though, so he resorted to drawing on the back of his left hand. He did this for a while, he couldn't really tell how long with the repetitive playlist, when there was an excessive amount of whistles and whoops. He looked up and saw a girl with dark skin and frizzy curls chugging some sort of alcohol that would definitely give her an unpleasant hangover. Aziraphale hoped, though, that she could hold her liquor; if not, she would undoubtedly be retching for the rest of the night.

When she finished and stood up all wobbly, the whistles of encouragement got louder and died down in an instant. A familiar voice shouted proudly, but Aziraphale could barely recognize it over the constant beat banging from the speakerphones. The girl stood, looking victorious, while a hand held hers into the air. The throng of people in the crowd made it hard to see who was around her. As people dispersed, though, and he saw the two or three people around her, his eyes widened immediately.

That's the voice he recognized; the barista, Anthony. Still clad in black as Aziraphale last saw him, he word black skinny jeans and a cropped black tee shirt that ended around his navel. His head was thrown back in a laugh. Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes, though.

He wore black shades that were tucked neatly on a long nose. His hair was let loose and it fell to his shoulders in dark auburn waves. Aziraphale's mouth twitched; he barely knew this man, but he certainly enjoyed hearing his laugh.

Anthony collected himself quickly and gave the girl a pat on the shoulder before grabbing his own drink from the counter. He turned around and Aziraphale's face went blank.

Anthony met his eyes and his laughing face softened. He grinned at Aziraphale, which he found odd, and Aziraphale gave him a ghost of a smile. Thinking that was it for his little encounter, Aziraphale turned his head down to fidget with the pen in his hand. He was surprised, though, when beside him the couch sank further down. He head shot towards his side and Anthony, in all his glory, was sitting so close to Aziraphale that his breath hitched. Looking right at him, Anthony gave the same sharp wave that he had given in the café only a few days prior. Aziraphale smiled nervously.

'Right, I saw you at the café the other day? Monday morning?' Anthony started smoothly. Aziraphale nodded.

'I'm pretty sure that was me, yes,' Aziraphale confirmed. Anthony gave a toothy grin.

'Great, nice. But seriously, what are you doing on a couch at a party?' he teased. Aziraphale shrugged.

'I don't even know why I agreed to come, to be honest. I don't... party much.' Aziraphale suggested. Anthony raised an eyebrow, his grin ever present.

'You've at least had something to drink?'

'A bit. You seem like you've had a decent amount.'

'Meh, I can hold my liquor,' Anthony shrugged. Then his eyes lit up in realization.

'Ah, right! I never got your name, did I?' Anthony stated, but it was more of a question.

'Aziraphale Fell, pleasure to meet you.' Aziraphale said tentatively. His name was a definite tongue twister for his newer acquaintances. However, Anthony just gave him a pat on the shoulder.

'Anthony J. Crowley at your service,' he announced. Aziraphale chuckled.

After they introduced themselves, they talked a bit about the party, and the conversation of 'so what are you studying?' was bound to come. It delightfully surprised Aziraphale when Anthony had said that he was doing a major in Botany and a minor in Astronomical Sciences. With his smooth way of words, he could've studied Law or Language, even Humanities. But, as he had explained in great detail, the nature of plants and galaxies always mesmerized him. As for Aziraphale, when he started to explain his major, Anthony had asked a lot of questions. Some would've found it tedious, but Aziraphale found it charming. This man was the epitome of charisma.

At one point, Aziraphale told Anthony about the fact that his best friend was apparently going out with his flatmate, which he seemed to find funny. Aziraphale enjoyed his company and Anthony was good with keeping conversation. They laughed a lot, and the knots in Aziraphale's stomach started to loosen. He'd be disappointed, though, when Anathema and Newt came stumbling to him.

'Hi, hi Azar.. Azri.. Zira!' Anathema tried, very drunk. Newt stood beside her with an oddly haunting look of fascination. Aziraphale and Anthony tried very visibly not to laugh.

'Hello, Anathema... I take it you're enjoying yourself?'

'Oh, oh yeah,' she nodded vigorously, which she seemed to regret as she put a hand over her mouth. Once she regained her questionable composure, she snickered.

'Me and Newt-'

'Newt and I,' Aziraphale offered. Anathema gave him a weird face.

'Yeah, that, we're gonna go, so don't wait up!' she fled soon after. She had a habit of doing that. Beside him, Anthony was snickering. Aziraphale giggled sheepishly.

'Your friend and flatmate, right?' Anthony wheezed.

'Yes, that's them,' Aziraphale sighed, amused.

'You do realize,' Anthony started, still laughing, 'that they're probably gonna go back to your flat and shag?'

Aziraphale's face morphed into one of horror, which apparently was hilarious, because Anthony was laughing so loud that a few passerby looked at him as if he were manic. The alcohol probably didn't help.

'Oh dear, what time is it anyway?' Aziraphale asked cluelessly as he went to check his phone. It had been a while, he concluded; what felt like an hour was almost four.

'Yeah, well, it doesn't really matter. Unless you wanna go back to your flat and listen to the two, I suggest you stay here.' Anthony suggested. Aziraphale sighed.

'I guess it couldn't get any worse. I'm going outside, though, it's far to stuffy in here,' Aziraphale nodded in goodbye, but Anthony was quick on his feet.

'I'll come,' he stated casually. Aziraphale smiled.

The fresh air was a relief after being in such a small room with far too many people for far too long. The night sky was dark, but some stars were visible. Aziraphale watched as Anthony looked up, still wearing his shades.

'Why do you wear shades indoors, if I may ask?' Aziraphale wondered out loud. Anthony looked down.

'Just a little eye problem, makes my pupils sensitive to light. I don't wear them to work much because it's supposedly rude,' he said, nonchalant. Aziraphale hummed.

'That's a shame, you have such nice eyes.' Aziraphale complimented. Anthony grinned, not smugly, but happily.

Aziraphale got to encounter him again, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last time they'd meet.


	4. Nicknames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (- Aziraphale enjoys Anthony's company and they slowly get to know one another. -)

After Aziraphale left the party with a happy goodbye from Anthony, he left to walk back to his flat. When he entered, he was relieved to hear silence, but he was sure Newt and Anathema were asleep in his flatmate's bedroom. He went to get ready for bed and groaned; the morrow was a Friday, which meant he'd have to go to class. Who hosts a party on a Thursday, anyway?

He didn't regret going, though. He jotted down a reminder in his planner to ensure that he would print his essay to hand it in tomorrow; Dr Young definitely didn't like computers, which inconvenienced the majority of the class except for Newt, who was absolute rubbish with technology. Aziraphale was tired, and he was definitely not looking forward to Friday morning classes, but he was sure to sleep peacefully that night.

Friday morning Theology was boring to say the least, but Aziraphale didn't stress too much about it when he confidentially submitted him essay. His next class was English literature, which was interesting, so it couldn't be so bad. It was in the next building though, so Aziraphale would have to walk. Walk he did, and after Mr Shadwell had stepped in, irritable, he started the lesson as he always did; homework. An eighteen page essay, deciphering English from the late 1800's. Once the most of the students made either a mental or paper note reminding them to do that on top of everything else, he began. The class went by quickly, easily, and Aziraphale was definitely going to start his essay in the library.

He strolled without rush, enjoying late autumn as crispy, coppery leaves bristled through the air, carrying with them the scent of petrichor and cinnamon. It was lovely. His eyes wandered until they found the glass doors of the library, but while distracted, he almost bumped into someone.

'Fuck off! Seeya later, AJ, stay - oomph!'

Aziraphale sputtered, already beginning to apologize as he recognized Ligur, a rather intimidating student from his Philosophy class.

'Oh, oh, I'm so sorry, I was rather distracted-' Aziraphale began, but Ligur just put a hand up and waved.

'No harm done,' Ligur said coldly, casually. Aziraphale smiled nervously and went to the right of him, stepping into the library as Ligur left. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding; Ligur was not someone talked to very often, and with good reason. He was mischievous, but very quiet. Aziraphale always felt... odd with him, and he really didn't know why.

As he walked into the library, he wondered slowly through the aisles, looking at the newer and worn spines alike of books ranging from scientific discovery to fiction novels. If was rather wonderful, the library. So little pages filled with so many stories. His wonder was cut short though - again! - when there was a sudden, sharp 'Aziraphale!' from behind his ear, a tap on his left shoulder that made him look up with a squeak. When nothing was on his left, he looked to his right and saw Anthony, a warm gaze and smug smirk plastered to his face.

'Fancy seeing you here, Aziraphale,' Anthony teased, arma crossed.

'Anthony! You scared the living daylights out of me!' Aziraphale scolded. Anthony just laughed.

'Didn't know you'd be that easy to spook, I'll keep it in mind,' he threatened playfully. Aziraphale pursed his lips, but amusement was clearly visible in his eyes.

'Don't you dare.' Anthony rolled his eyes, his smirk ever present, and shrugged.

'So what're you up to, then?' he asked as Aziraphale continued to pace through the aisles.

'I was assigned an essay. I was thinking of starting it,' he replied, nonchalant. Anthony nodded in understanding.

'Yeah, I got an essay for my Molecular Biology class, and while I'd rather do anything else, I should probably start too. Wanna come sit?' Anthony nodded to a table on the left side of the room where a laptop and bag sat on the table among a plethora of notes. Aziraphale smiled brightly and nodded.

'I would love too.' And so they sat and discussed their subjects, their professors and more anecdotes and facts than necessary. Aziraphale thought it was really quite nice, talking like this with Anthony. He was so interesting, so_ cool_, he felt pleased. He noticed, however, a glint of amusement in Anthony's eyes after only half an hour of sitting, writing and chatting mindlessly. He went to open his mouth, but nothing came out except for a yelp when two warm hands covered his eyes.

'Guess who?' a familiar voice asked.

'Newt's new girlfriend, perhaps?' Aziraphale huffed. The hands were removed and one pricked the back of his head.

'No, Zira, wrooooong. Anyway, what're you up to? Also, did you two hook up yet?' Anathema inquired only to have Anthony start wheezing and Aziraphale turn red.

'Anathema, why do you do this to me?' Aziraphale sighed. Anathema only chuckled.

'That's what best friends are for, right? Just a tease.' she assured. Aziraphale huffed and rolled his eyes.

'I should be asking you, Anathema. I almost tripped on your shoes coming back to my flat last night,' Aziraphale retorted smugly. Anathema grinned nervously.

'Ah, well, one does what they do when drunk. But hey, I got my payback. I had a pretty shitty hangover,' she confessed miserably. Aziraphale sniggered.

'Right - well, when -' Anthony sputtered, failing miserably at trying to form coherent sentences between breaths.

'When, when you two - are done,' Anthony just waved a hand, trying to imply something, and put his head on the table while hissing giggles. Anathema smiled.

'Right, I'll leave you to it, Zira. I'll talk to you later!' Anathema winked, walked away and into the aisles. Aziraphale sighed, amused.

'Are you all right, Anthony?' Aziraphale asked. Anthony nodded, beaming.

'Yeah, yeah, sorry. Your friend, she's funny,' he started.

'Indeed, she is,' Aziraphale agreed.

'So, what is it she calls you? Zira?' Anthony grinned. Aziraphale sighed.

'It's a nickname, but please spare me, I hate it,' Aziraphale started. Anthony raised a brow.

'Come on, Zira,' Anthony began. Aziraphale cringed.

'As I recall, you go by AJ?' Aziraphale retorted, which made Anthony snap his mouth shut.

'Sure, sometimes, but that has nothing to do with this,' Anthony tried to argue. Aziraphale smiled.

'Oh, but it does,'

'No, no, I - y'know what, nevermind. What can I call you, then?'

Aziraphale pondered, not knowing what to say. Were they friends now, in such a short amount of time? Was that appropriate?

'Well, I don't really know...' he answered sheepishly. Anthony bit his cheek, which he seemed to have a habit of doing, and thought.

'Well, what does your name mean?' Anthony asked. Aziraphale didn't really know how to respond; he knew the meaning of his name, of course, but nobody ever bothered to ask. People just assumed his parents were wonky and named their child something of the sort to be unique. It was a unique name, though, but that wasn't the point.

'Right, well, uh... It means "of Raphael", the archangel of healing. My parents were ah, rather religious and wanted something biblical,' Aziraphale offered, bashful. It was rather ridiculous in his opinion. Anthony hummed.

'Well, are you religious?' he asked, curious. Aziraphale shrugged.

'I used to be, being raised in that environment and all, but I kind of... separated from that community a while ago,' Aziraphale said. Anthony hummed again and snapped his fingers, his eyes gleaming bright as an apparent lightbulb went off.

'I've got it! Angel!' Anthony suggested, rather proud. Aziraphale just stuttered.

Angel? That was a term of endearment if Aziraphale had ever heard one. He felt a sort of flutter in his chest at the name, though, and chose not to argue.

'Right, all right then,' he murmured with a cough. Anthony gave him a smile.

'Perfect! Call me Crowley, then.' he offered. Aziraphale looked dumbfounded.

'Uh, why?'

'Why not?' Anthony questioned. 'It's what my friends call me,' he offered. Aziraphale raised a brow.

Not AJ?' he asked teasingly. Anthony huffed.

'Yeah, well, Hastur and Ligur are pricks who plan my demise on their little dates.' he pointed out. Aziraphale laughed fully.

'Right, then. Crowley it is.'

Anthony beamed brightly, and right then Aziraphale decided that he wanted to witness his new friend smile a whole lot more.


End file.
